


Love is Like a Cigarette

by kaibagirl



Series: Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition (S8) [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Death, Death of a loved one, Depressing, F/M, Fire, Hate, Love, Madness, Sad, So much depression, Strawberry Scent, blame, charcoal grey, cigarette, dead, he descends into madness, red hair, self hate, smoke, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaibagirl/pseuds/kaibagirl
Summary: Tom Riddle falls in love with a redheaded girl who helped him brew a potion to combat his inability to love.
Relationships: Lord Voldemort/OC, Tom Marvolo Riddle/OC, Tom Riddle/OC, Voldemort/OC
Series: Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition (S8) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700263
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Love is Like a Cigarette

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Write about someone driven mad by guilt 
> 
> Additional prompts:  
> 4\. [item] cigarette  
> 7\. [quote] "Don't let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in thirty seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner."— Neil McCauley, Heat  
> 13\. [color] charcoal grey
> 
> Word count: 1629  
> Warnings: Death and hate of one’s self.

_ "Don't let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in thirty seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner,"— Neil McCauley, Heat. _

Tom remembered reading that quote somewhere. He didn't understand it. What's  _ heat _ ? It's warmth, like the fire flickering in the fireplace, like a sun on a warm day.

Like  _ her _ .

He would never want to leave her. She's done so much for him.

He hadn't admitted it out loud, but Tom  _ loved _ her.

And she loved him  _ back _ .

Tom never thought he would feel any kind of love, and there she was, sitting next to him.

He remembered how they met.

o - o - o - o - o

_ She just confessed that she held feelings for him. It was the first time he felt bad for rejecting someone, and he had to explain why. _

" _ I feel something for you as well, but I don't think it's love," he said. One glance at her face told him she was deeply wounded by his words. "You misunderstand me. I… I can't love." _

" _ Everyone can love, Tom," she replies. _

" _ N—no. I was… conceived under the effects of a love potion. It's emotionally impossible for me to feel real love. I mean, I can feel love, but it's a replica of love, unreal. Like a love potion." _

" _ Well, if magic made you, then magic can reverse it!" she replied, her face brightening. "Come on, we're going to the library!" _

o - o - o - o - o

One of his Death Eaters pulled out a pack of smokes.

_ Smoke. Charred skin. _

**_Dead._ **

**_All_** _dead._

**_His fault._ **

Oh, but she loved smoke. He remembered how her vibrant red hair draped over her shoulder as she searched for her cigarettes.

She always smelled like strawberries and smoke.

_ Dead _ .

He put his face to his head, trying to stop the throbbing in his head. A memory played like a movie to him.

o - o - o - o - o

" _ Want one?" she asked, gesturing to her pack of cigarettes. _

_ Pausing, Tom said, "Sure." _

_ He took one, and she lit it for him. He inhaled, then promptly took it out of his mouth, trying to suppress the need to cough. She giggled at that. _

_ Her smile was the most beautiful thing in the world. _

o - o - o - o - o

How he longed to hold her, to run his fingers through her hair.

Alas, she was dead.

_ Dead. His fault. _

He never was able to kiss her, as much as he hoped to.

_ All his fault. _

o - o - o - o - o

_ He leaned in to kiss her... _

_...Then backed away hastily. She looked at him, hurt. _

" _ Y—you're cursed," he explained, panicking. Her eyes widened. _

" _ I—I am? How? Which curse? How do you kn—" he cut her off. _

" _ All I know is that you're cursed," he says, grabbing her hand and turning around. _

" _ But h—how? Where are we going?" _

" _ We're going to the library." _

o - o - o - o - o

Tom searched for days. Every book on every shelf was searched through. She gave up— but he didn't.

He continued for his sake. He couldn't risk losing her.

But he did.

_ Dead. _

o - o - o - o - o

" _ Want one?" she asked, fumbling with her purse to find a cigarette lighter. _

_ Pausing, Tom said, "Should you be smoking?" _

_ She glared at him. "A curse isn't the same as a health problem." _

" _ But it might affect you negatively," he reasoned. _

" _ Let me smoke." _

" _ Aren't you worried? Your health is in dire condition." _

" _ No," she glared again. _

_ Tom reached forward, taking the cigarette pack from her. She opens her mouth to speak, fury painting her features. _

_ Tom cut her off. "I'll take these, and you aren't getting them back." _

_ She rolled her eyes at him. Then she pulled out another pack from the depths of her purse. _

_ He just looked at her in disbelief. Then she laughed, causing confusion to show on his graceful features. _

_ But he'd been lying if he said her lovely laugh didn't affect his poor heart. _

o - o - o - o - o

He'd never hear that laugh again.

_ Dead. _

As much as he wanted to blame the cigarettes and her curse, it was his fault. He was about to cure her, but she saved him instead.

Tom had to watch her die.

He watched her die because she'd been the cause of her death.

**Ignis expauit** — literally meaning double edged fire— was an old, forbidden spell. It was a spell used to burn curses away.

There was good reason it was forbidden. If not casted carefully, and with full focus, it would leave the target's skin burnt to a crisp. The side effect would always put the caster on fire, but he was alright with that.

But she wasn't.

o - o - o - o - o

" _ NO! GET OUT OF THE WAY," he screamed as the fire threatened to escape his grasp. _

" _ I won't until you stop, Tom," she replied firmly. "Undo the spell." _

" _ I—I CAN'T CONTROL IT!" the fire was approaching her fast, and he screamed her name. "RUN!" _

_ Too late. _

_ Far, far too late. _

_ She dropped to the floor, her skin charred from the flame. Charcoal grey skin. _

_ Tom ran to her. _

_ She vanished with a puff of smoke— charcoal grey smoke— a butterfly floating where she sat a moment ago. The curse was activated. _

_ He holds out his hand to her. _

" _ Why?" he whispers. "We were so close… I could have cured you, why now?" _

_ The butterfly sat in his hand, fluttering sadly. _

" _ It's fine. I will find you a new cure. It'll be okay. You'll be human. We'll be together, and I can take you to Paris, like you've always wanted," he assured her. _

_ He didn't realize his hand was on fire. It didn't seem important. _

_ The butterfly seemed to shake her little head, flying over to his other hand. Tom tried to take his hand away, far from her. She seemed to breathe in the cursed fire. _

_ Next thing he knew, his hand was back to normal, except for the fact that the butterfly was dead in his hand. _

_ She fixed him, helped him. And all he did was hurt her, and now, kill her. _

_ Everyone that could have loved him were gone. All that was left were admirers and people seeking power. _

_ He had no one left. _

_ The one he loved was dead. _

His fault, all his fault.

_ He tucked her tiny body into his coat pocket. _

Dead, dead.  **All h** is fault.

_ Tom tried to stand up, then promptly fell. He put a hand around his pocket to protect her, resulting in him getting a full face of floor. _

**His** fault.

_ The migraine that suddenly overtook him was unbearable. _

_ He pushed himself off the floor in pure determination, leaving the room. _

It's your fault she's dead. You deserve to suffer. It's what she would have wanted.

" _ N—no, she—" _

Your fault. It's your fault she's dead.

_ He fainted as the door vanished. _

o - o - o - o - o

Tom got rid of all his charcoal grey clothes— they looked like death to him.

Since the moment she'd slipped from his grasp, into Death's cold embrace, he'd been obsessed with trying to find a way to get her back.

If only she hadn't gotten close to him, if she stayed away…

If she didn't help him love again.

_ His fault _ .

Tom can't blame her. She was an innocent.

It was him that was at fault, he was a  _ monster _ .

**_Demon_ ** .

But she loved him anyway.

o - o - o - o - o

_ They were sitting in the potions room. She read out loud the instructions to reverse effects of the love potion. _

" _ A lock of hair from someone who loves you is the last ingredient," she said. _

" _ But nobody loves me," he replied, emotionessly. _

" _ I do." _

_ He gave a start, looking up at her. _

" _ You… do?" he asked, startled. _

_ She nodded, smiling warmly at him. _

_Tom couldn't feel anything— not_ yet _._ _That would change a day after the potion touches his mouth._

_ She took out some scissors, cutting off a lock of hair. _

_ He stirred it into the potion— it suddenly smelled like strawberries… and smoke. It's a combination that most wouldn't look twice at, but he loved it. _

_ It reminded him of home, even if he didn't have one. _

_ He brought the goblet full of potion up to his lips, curling his lips into a sincere smile. _

_ She smiled back. _

o - o - o - o - o

_ "Don't let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in thirty seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner,"— Neil McCauley, Heat. _

Tom finally understood that quote.

He should have left before he hurt her.

It was all because of love. It was his fault. His fault that he  _ loved _ .

He wasn't given the ability to love because he didn't deserve it. He was a monster. Love knew to stay far away from the likes of him.

But that sweet, redheaded girl didn't. She came with him, trying to brighten his charcoal grey life.

But he was far too toxic for someone like her.

He  _ killed _ her.

It was all his fault.

_ Dead, all dead, all his fault. _

He fell off his throne, startling every Death Eater in the room.

_ Monster… monster… _

Voldemort shooed his followers aside as he gripped his head, trying to soothe the throbbing.

_ Your fault _ .

He got out his wand.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he screamed, the spell's green light narrowly missing Avery by a hair's breadth.

His Death Eaters backed up, not wanting to be murdered at the hands of their master.

But Voldemort, he just wanted to die.

He wanted to join his love, even if he didn't deserve it.

_ His fault _ .

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please leave kudos : )


End file.
